


Gold in the Night

by homewithyou



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Businessman Damen, M/M, Sexual Tension, Stripper AU, smut in second chapter, stripper Laurent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:14:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26818648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/homewithyou/pseuds/homewithyou
Summary: Laurent is Club Arles' top stripper, and Damen wants a private dance.
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 53





	Gold in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> I love stripper!Laurent so much so I decided to write him. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Smut will be in the second chapter.

The dim lights of the club cast shadows on the countless faces in the audience that sat watching the dancers on stage, who were writhing in the semi-darkness. Under the low lighting, the sheen of the red velvet couches facing the stage glowed like beacons in the night. Deep, bass-heavy music pulsed throughout the room. Glasses clinked, people whispered. The air smelled like desire.

It was a typical Saturday night, and the club was full to the brim of its usual crowd, and more – those who frequented the joint and had favorite dancers, and then occasional party-goers who got dragged along with their friends for some special event. _There’s nothing like dancing for a reluctant customer_ , Laurent thought as he stepped back from where he was peeking around a heavy black curtain to look out at the club and its audience. 

Laurent walked further backstage, past women and men scrambling to change in and out of gaudy costumes, to get to his mirror. Once he sat down in front of it, he took a second to look at himself and check on his makeup one more time before he headed off to the stage for his performance. Golden eyeshadow, winged eyeliner, dark red lipstick – all of it went toward the illicit fantasy Laurent sold to the people who walked through the front doors every night. It was a fantasy of lust and haze, brilliance and illusion. Laurent’s job was to make customers forget about the lives that drove them to a strip club in the first place – and he was damn good at his job.

Deeming his face sufficient and standing up, Laurent looked over his costume to make sure it wasn’t askew. The strings of pearl lingerie draped over his body highlighted his pale coloring and curves, and Laurent reached down to adjust the clothing slightly so that it hugged his hips better. Laurent knew what he looked like, and he knew the sway he held over men and women alike. At first, it had scared him. When he was younger, he was uncomfortable with the gazes people sent his way when he did not want any attention drawn toward himself. However, as he grew up and learned hard lessons about the world, Laurent learned one could wield sex appeal and lust over men like a weapon. A beautiful smile could be as sharp as the edge of a curved blade. 

Laurent decided that if he wanted true power over people, he would have to sharpen his blade to a precise point. When he began pole dancing, he practiced tirelessly to balance athleticism with artistic expression in his performances. Day and night, Laurent worked himself up and down the pole, his muscles straining and sweat sliding down his back, pushing toward a future that was vague in his mind but becoming clearer with each harsh intake of breath.

And it was all paying off. Laurent smiled to himself as he made his way to the stage – tonight would be a good night for tips. 

The song that had been playing ended and lights dimmed, and Laurent knew that it was time. Laurent let the other dancers file off the stage before he strutted on in his stilettos and assumed his starting pose. When the lights came up and the music started, he threw himself into his routine, beginning by twirling himself around the pole a couple times before hauling himself up to dance while suspended in the air. Laurent heard a whistle from out in the audience and smiled to himself. 

The music played sensual and slow, and the lights were dimmed even lower than usual, with only a singular spotlight illuminating the pale glow of Laurent’s skin. As he went through his routine, he fell into a familiar headspace of self-assuredness that came with dancing moves he’d mastered. His breathing was calm and measured when he flipped himself upside down on the pole and let his legs fall open, to the sounds of a few gasps and more whistles in response. Laurent liked to imagine himself moving through water as he melded himself to the pole and made his body flow around it; the image helped him feel more in tune with his movements, and in turn his dancing was more confident. 

As he was dancing, Laurent sneaked a glance out into the crowd to see who he was dealing with that evening. There were all kinds of people in the audience, but as he was scanning everyone, he caught sight of someone that made him do a double take in the middle of his routine. The man was tall and broad, with dark skin, unruly hair and warm brown eyes. He wore a business suit that strained against his obvious muscles, and Laurent had to force himself to keep dancing naturally instead of stopping his routine in surprise at the man’s otherworldly attractiveness. 

Men like that didn’t come to the club that often, so Laurent wondered if he was there with friends. A quick glance around the man told Laurent that yes, he had been dragged along with friends to the club for some occasion. However, that did not mean he wasn’t enjoying the show. He was clearly enraptured with Laurent, if the way he was closely watching Laurent’s body move along the pole was any indication of his feelings. Laurent tried not to blush at the intense gaze and continued to dance, now getting onto the floor and arching his back suggestively while making eye contact with the man. He swore he could see the man’s nostrils flair and his pupils dilate. 

Willing himself to focus, Laurent walked over to a chair near the edge of the stage and straddled it while throwing his head back. Men tended to stare, that was nothing new. What was new was the quality of the stare. People usually leered at Laurent, eyes raking up and down his body with greed. However, this man’s gaze was different; it oozed pure hunger that was anything but greedy, and his attention rarely left Laurent’s face, the depths of his eyes promising so much more than Laurent could ever imagine himself.

He decided to ignore the man for the rest of his routine to maintain his focus, but that didn’t mean Laurent couldn’t feel his burning gaze boring into his face.

When Laurent finished his routine and looked up, the man that had been watching him was gone from his seat. Resisting the urge to scowl, Laurent went to walk backstage when he saw that he had pushed his way past security and was trying to reach Laurent. 

When Laurent was within hearing distance, he asked: “How much for a private dance?”

“What?” Laurent asked, bewildered. 

“How much for a private dance?” the man repeated. 

Laurent’s stomach clenched at the images those words brought forth in his head, and he mentally tamped down on them. “I don’t do private dances. Sorry.” 

“Come on, just for me?” He asked with a smile, a deviously handsome dimple carved into his cheek. _Screw this man and his dimple_ , Laurent thought ferociously. 

“The answer is no,” Laurent said, and pushed past him to get back to the dressing rooms. 

“I’m Damen,” the man said, going after Laurent. 

“And I don’t care,” Laurent replied, continuing to walk. Laurent, on principle, did not perform private dances. He didn’t like being pressed up against a stranger and the vulnerability that accompanied such an act, so he always declined when people asked. The club owner understood, and Laurent was too valuable to fire over such a thing, so his boundary held firm.

“At least let me buy you a drink,” Damen tried, following Laurent further backstage. 

Laurent sighed and simply ignored Damen. Usually it was easy to deal with overzealous customers, but it was hard to resist when said customer looked the way he did. The man’s persistence could be seen as admirable, but at the moment all Laurent felt was mild annoyance as well as, infuriatingly, mild curiosity. 

“First time at a strip club?” Laurent asked, refusing to slow down his pace for Damen. 

“Yes, actually,” Laurent looked to where Damen was walking alongside him to see Damen’s eyebrows furrowed together. “How did you know?”

Laurent resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “You clearly don’t know the rules – customers aren’t allowed backstage.” They had reached the makeup room, and Laurent went to sit in front of his mirror.

“Kick me out, then,” Damen challenged.

Laurent froze for a second where he was reaching for his foundation. There was a second where he was overly aware of his breath. His eyes flicked up to meet Damen’s in the mirror. Damen’s brown eyes had come alive, and they were glowing with the warmth of challenge. Laurent ignored the stirring in his gut he felt when he looked at the implicit smile dancing in Damen’s gaze.

“I don’t have the time,” Laurent said, then went about re-applying his foundation where he had sweated some off during his routine. Damen continued to hover behind Laurent’s chair, hands in pockets. 

“What’s your name?” Damen asked. 

“Not telling you,” Laurent responded with a deceptively sweet smile. Not a moment later, his luck ran out.

“Laurent, you’re on again in five!” A voice called out.

“Laurent?” Damen asked, his dimple showing. Laurent willed himself not to react to the way Damen said his name, and he silently berated the worker who had said his real name instead of his stage name. Instead of responding verbally, Laurent continued to touch up his makeup while the thorn in his side stood behind him. 

“So, is this your only job?” Damen asked hesitantly. _It could be_ , Laurent thought to himself, considering all of the tips he could make in just one night with crumpled up bills stuffed hastily into his waistband. His mind went back to the jars of cash he had stashed deep in his closet that he kept out of lingering paranoia. Laurent leaned forward, wiped off his lipstick, and re-applied a darker red to his lips.

“No, I’m actually a librarian,” Laurent responded, letting a hint of sarcasm bleed into his voice. Whether or not Damen decided to believe Laurent was up to him. What was more important at the moment was that Laurent needed to get into his next outfit. Standing from his vanity table, Laurent stood and brushed past Damen, and the brief contact between their shoulders felt more monumental than it should have. 

Laurent walked over to his locker and opened it to reach in for tiny scraps of clothing on a hanger. It was high-waisted red lace lingerie bottoms with a garter belt to attach to them. When Laurent turned around with the clothing in hand, Damen’s eyes shot to the pieces of fabric. Laurent watched his reaction keenly, and he wasn’t disappointed; Damen took a sharp but quiet inhale of breath, and his eyebrows rose to his hairline. 

“You’re going to wear that?” Damen asked. He kept looking from Laurent’s face to the lingerie and back to Laurent’s face again. Laurent could not fight the smile that was growing on his face – this idiot was so open with his expressions that it was impossible to not be amused. 

“I _am_ a stripper. Why are you surprised?,” Laurent answered matter-of-factly, putting his other hand on his hip. 

“I’m not. I just think red will look good on you,” Damen said earnestly, eyes wide and scanning Laurent’s face with something akin to wonder. Laurent hated it. He wanted to reach out and slap Damen across the face for even looking at him that way. Damen was not _allowed_ to look at him like that. 

Laurent tilted his head up so he could simulate looking down his nose at Damen. “I look good in every color,” he said, and it was the truth. 

Damen only smiled, a slow and honeyed thing blooming across his broad, handsome features. “I have no doubt about that.” 

Resisting the urge to reach out and slap Damen again, Laurent shooed Damen aside with his hand and walked to the dressing rooms, where he changed into the lacy outfit. Laurent took a second to stop and evaluate himself in the mirror. He had a tendency to be self-critical, as he strove for perfection always, and he saw no reason to do away with this mentality, as it had only brought him success. 

His eyes scrolled up and down his body in the mirror. As always, his skin was unblemished and pale – under at certain angles in the light, one could see his pale veins shining through his delicate skin on his arms and neck. His hair, recently washed and dried, shone like golden spool under the soft lighting in the dressing room, and Laurent was sure it’d shine on stage, too, complimenting the sparkle of his eyeshadow. 

Laurent had not always been one for the spotlight. As a child, he had preferred books over friends, much less crowds of people. In fact, whenever his parents had tried to introduce him to family friends, he would often find any excuse he could to escape the situation with as little social interaction as possible. He preferred not to be noticed in general. However, one day, Laurent was scrolling through Instagram when he saw an advertisement of a woman wearing a lingerie set. A feeling had stirred in Laurent’s gut – a spark gradually coming to life, like a jungle cat rousing awake after a long slumber. 

Later that night, he went online and bought his first lingerie set. It was a blue bodysuit similar to the cerulean shade of Laurent’s eyes, and it had small flower cut-outs attached to the delicate lace that climbed up the bodice. The whole piece looked like it belonged on a water spirit that lived among the flow of a mountain stream that was frozen in the winter but moved freely in the summer. He had fallen in love with it, and upon receiving it in the mail had immediately put it on and gawked at his appearance in the mirror. 

Never before had Laurent felt the way he did when he saw the way blue lace attached to his figure. The feeling rushing through his veins felt like a mixture of giddiness and wonder, and a hunger for power – the kind of power batting his eyelashes and swinging his hips would award him. 

Since that day, Laurent had clawed his way up to the top. He began with simply taking pictures of himself, and stretching his body into alluring angles in the mirror as he snapped photo after photo, slowly discovering what it meant to be desirable intentionally. Then, he had saved up for basic dance classes, while serving as a waiter at the club. He learned to move, and how to use his body to his advantage, and he progressed to higher level pole dancing classes. When a dancer at the club had fallen ill one night, Laurent had volunteered to fill in. He had a routine already practiced and planned, and he danced like it was the last time he’d ever be allowed to be on stage. The owner of the club hired him the next night.

Laurent felt a small smile grace his lips, tentative and new like dew in the morning. Dancing made him feel powerful, but it also gave him hope. He could _be somebody_ , and have agency in his own life. 

It was a future Laurent would continue to fight for. 

Realizing he’d been lost in thought for some time, Laurent pulled his mind back to the present. Reality came back to him in flashes – the red of the lingerie on his body, the glint of the ceiling light, his own blue eyes staring back at him in the mirror. 

“Laurent?” He heard, and forced himself to take a measured breath when he recognized the voice of someone who most definitely should not have been standing outside of his dressing room door at that moment. 

“What,” Laurent said, deadpan. 

“Everything alright? Five minutes is almost up.”

 _Oh,_ Laurent thought. _Of course_. He cursed himself. Something about this man’s presence was messing with Laurent, and he didn’t like it. Striding forward, Laurent flung open the dressing room door to face the force of nature standing right outside of it. 

Laurent swore he could see Damen’s breathing stop. A dark red blush overtook Damen’s cheeks, almost matching the red of Laurent’s outfit, and Laurent had to bite back a smile. _Too easy_ , he thought with some satisfaction. 

“How do I look?” Laurent asked just to see what Damen would say. 

“You… I… Yes,” Damen stuttered out, his confidence uncharacteristically faltering for a moment.

“Yes?” Laurent couldn’t help but throw his head back and laugh. Damen’s eyes tracked the movement. 

“I mean– you look amazing,” Damen clarified, clearing his throat. “I’m sure you’ll be great out there.” 

“I know,” Laurent said, not looking away from Damen for a few seconds before turning and strutting off toward the stage. Laurent heard a shaky inhale of breath behind him as he walked away, and he could feel Damen’s hot gaze on him. 

Laurent smirked. _Too easy,_ he thought again. 

Damen stayed throughout the night, even after his friends left. Whenever Laurent danced, Damen was there, his stare never leaving Laurent once. And for the first time in a long time, Laurent felt uncomfortable with the attention. Damen’s intense stare unsettled something within him, and he wasn’t sure how to shake it off. By the end of the night, Laurent was ready for the nuisance to be gone. When Laurent exited backstage after changing, he saw that Damen had waited for him at the entrance to the club.

“So…” Damen started as Laurent walked up to him in his regular clothes. “How was your night?” 

“Listen, if you’re going to start stalking me –” Laurent began. 

Damen’s eyes grew comically wide. “Oh, no, no. I just wanted to see if I could give you a ride home.” 

Laurent pushed past Damen. “I take the bus.”

“Then at least let me walk you to your bus stop,” Damen insisted. Laurent stopped walking.

“Why?” He asked, suspicion clear in his voice. 

“I want to make sure you get there safely,” Damen said with an earnest look. Laurent felt the sudden urge to laugh hysterically, but he tamped down on it.

“I walk to my bus stop alone every night, and I’m trained in self-defense. I don’t need a knight in shining armor, much less an idiot in a suit.”

Damen, inexplicably, began to laugh. It was a full-bodied sound, full of warmth and light, and Laurent swore he could feel his eye twitch.

“You know what, you’re right. You clearly can handle yourself. I won’t bother you anymore.” Damen began to walk away, and something in Laurent strained against its confines. He was at war with himself, the logical part of him saying it _would_ be safer to walk with Damen, a brute who could fight off some of the men Laurent had to deal with on his walks, and his high-alert emotions telling him that Damen could potentially be dangerous. However, Damen had been prepared to leave Laurent alone; he was persistent, but not creepy. 

“Wait,” Laurent said, sighing to himself. Damen stopped. “It… would be safer to walk with you. My bus stop is ten minutes East of here.”

Damen turned around and smiled an idiotic smile. “Ok, Laurent,” he replied, and the way he said Laurent’s name made Laurent shift on his feet. “Lead the way.” 

Laurent began walking, and Damen fell into step beside him. After a few minutes of awkward silence in which Laurent silently stewed over losing that unspoken battle of wills with Damen, they actually began to talk. Laurent found out, with little surprise, that Damen was a businessman who was at the club for a friend’s birthday. _Nikandros_ , Damen had said the friend was named. Damen also owned two german shepherds and lived only ten minutes away from Laurent. On the other hand, Laurent was not so liberal with his personal details, but he did listen and talk about the club. 

When they reached Laurent’s bus stop to see the bus was already there, Damen turned to face Laurent. 

“I’m not thanking you,” Laurent said while crossing his arms. 

“I would never ask that of you,” Damen said easily, his eyes sparkling. “I’ll see you around, Laurent.” With that, he turned and walked in the other direction. Laurent could only shake his head in response. 

Little did he know he would end up seeing Damen the very next day.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is [lamen-trash](https://lamen-trash.tumblr.com/). I love getting fic requests so feel free to send them my way!
> 
> NOTE: I will update as soon as I can but life is crazy right now so who knows.


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